Love Lies Bleeding
by ipsilon
Summary: Noone can believe that he would be capable of the crime he is accused of...so who or what is Ray protecting by keeping his silence? Reminiscence and sadness with Ray Neela and hints of LukaAbby. AU by the way
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I didn't invent most of these characters or situations: the people at ER did.**_

**I don't love this first chapter, for a number of reasons, but I've been sitting on this and a few other fics for a few months now, and I thought to myself this morning, "better out than in." As they say. So here goes. If you do read it and like it, or even if you don't like it, LET ME KNOW. Its not easy reading and, as I say, not very cheery, but there will, in future chapters, be moments of non-depressingness, so give it a chance. I don't know what to say... I think I'd been reading that _very, very_ dark fic 'Lost' by Starryjen (_Correction: xander1girl_) before I wrote it (which is underrated by the way), and this chapter's also a bit Heroes-y (I'm a big Mohinder fan). Just to give you some useless background there. Enjoy and REVIEW.**

* * *

_A suburb of Chicago, Sunday Morning._

Mr. Chandha folded the paper, so that just the main picture and headline faced up. He stared for a minute at the counter. He wasn't usually interested in local news but today this one particular story had caught his eye. The picture showed a beautiful dark-haired woman, Western-style dress but Indian through and through: a sparkle in her eyes, a baby of a few months cradled in one arm, a pretty raven-haired little child of around two or three gazing down at the baby happily, her mother's other arm drawing her into the huddle.

He read that headline again and felt an involuntary shudder run down his spine.

"MOTHER AND TWO CHILDREN PERISH IN SUSPECTED ARSON.

Police are today expected to announce a press conference following incidents in the early hours of yesterday morning in which a family home in the Naperville area was razed to the ground. The three fatalities, whose names will be verified at the conference this afternoon were confirmed by authorities, as a 35 year old female health professional and her two children, a two year old male and a six year old female. The woman is thought to have been a British national, and is said to have no other relatives in this country. Representatives from the United Kingdom' s embassy have been notified. The local community have reacted with shock and sadness to the events. Twenty-eight year old Tanya Bates was a neighbour of the family: "I didn't know them too well, they kept themselves to themselves, but to imagine something like this...they seemed such a sweet little family. We all feel very sad." Evidence gathered from the scene, including traces of lighter fuel, have led to a definitive verdict of deliberate arson. Police have reportedly no substantial leads on this case, but are currently seeking to get into contact with the father of the children, believed to be recently seperated from their mother. There are also reports of another male having been seen in the area at an earlier hour but police have currently very little evidence that his presence has anything to do with the case. Any witnesses to the events should make themselves known to authorities. FOR MORE LOCAL NEWS AND DETAILS OF THIS YEAR'S EASTER SWEEPSTAKES TURN TO PAGE 5.

The old man shook his head and absent-mindedly took hold of the mop that rested against the wall, sweeping the area around the entrance to his cafe bar.

He noticed a customer trying to get his attention.

"I'll have another coffee and some of that cake, if its not too much trouble," called a man in his late twenties who was sat at one of the tables, a note of sarcasm in his voice.

"All right, all right, young man," called Mr. Chandha. "Although," he muttered in Punjabi, not really bothering to keep his voice down, and turning away from the seating area to head back into the kitchen, "I don't really see the rush, you've obviously got plenty of time on your hands to be sat around drinking coffee all day".

It was not polite, he knew, to talk badly of others in their presence. But really, some of these younger men these days had no respect for their elders. Besides, it wasn't like they understood what he was saying most of the time. You didn't get too many speakers of Punjabi around these parts, so most of the time he was quite free to make the odd shrewd comment under his breath from time to time at the expense of some of his more irksome clientele.

So when, on turning back to the kitchen, he heard a distinct chuckle at his remark emanating from somewhere behind him he was somewhat caught off guard.

Mr. Chandha stopped still, perturbed. Slowly he turned around and narrowed his eyes. In the corner was sat a youngish man of Indian appearance. He had not noticed him enter the cafe. He had a striking look about him that had nothing to do with his physicality: his eyes were hard and tired-looking. There was wisdom there but also something a little frightening. The hang of his jacket, the grubby appearance of his white robe and the beginnings of a black beard suggested that he hadn't had a change of clothes or a decent sleep in a long time. But the young man somehow seemed unnervingly alert.

"You are right of course to demand a little more respect..." he said in an accent that he placed somewhere between London and North Indian. "But I would be careful. Who are we to judge how others pass their time?"

There was something about this man which Mr. Chandha didn't like.

"Are you going to order something?" Barked the old man. "This is a restaurant."

The younger man held his gaze unnervingly. Mr. Chandha grabbed a menu from the side and slapped it down, bad-temperedly, on the table in front of the man, before making his way back to the counter to read the sports section without any more interruptions from irritating customers. He sat on a stool and held the paper out in front of him, blocking himself from the view of the restaurant. His eye caught sight of the picture of the woman again. There was something about her face. Something...Lowering his newspaper slightly he looked out towards the man at the table, and then looked down again at the picture. His blood went a little cold.

He couldn't believe it. The man had a distinct likeness to the girl in the picture. He shifted slightly and fingered the phone on the counter. It could very well be coincidence...but then hadn't the article said the woman had had no relatives here in America...Chandha stopped himself. _You've been watching too much 'Murder She Wrote', Roshan!_ He chided himself and shook his head again. Why had this article got to him so badly?

"Hey bubba, have you seen my maths book? I think its in the drawer out there," his grand-daughter called from the kitchen.

He looked nervously across the cafe at the man, and then turned around slightly to call to his grand-daughter.

"Just one second my love," he yelped in what he hoped was a normal tone. He ducked under the counter to retrieve the book she was looking for, biding his time. He looked up and found the man looking at him straight in the eye. Slowly he smiled lopsidedly, chillingly. "What's the matter, old man? Seen a ghost?"

When he came back he couldn't believe his eyes. The man was gone.

* * *

The same morning, Cook County General, Chicago 

Ray walked through the streets on his way to work, rubbing his eyes irritably as he did so. He had barely slept in days, his neck cricked through sleeping on the too short sofas of a series of ex-bandmates. His stomach rumbled: he hadn't been able to stomach any food for days. He thought longingly of the cupboards full of food waiting for him at home: a home-cooked meal was the order of the day, he didn't care what: alphabet spaghetti washed down with some Sunny Delight...and then perhaps a game of 'Operation' with Loveen and Sammy before settling down for the night in front of the television with his beautiful Neela. Perfection, he thought, with a little smile.

Then, mentally, he slapped himself. He was getting ahead of himself. He and Neela still had alot of ground to make up before everything went back to normal, he had to accept that. Just five days ago they had had the fight to end all fights. His stomach tensed with shame as he remembered painfully the tears she had shed as he had, in a moment of madness, accused her of not spending enough time with him, of forgetting that he had needs as well as the children.

Of course he had been out of line. He had known that the second the words had come out of his mouth. He had spent the last week ringing her and ringing her...leaving messages to express how sorry he truly was. He rubbed his eye again and sighed. He would never forget the look in his children's eyes as they pressed their heads against the window of the top room to look at him, their father stood in the freezing cold of the driveway, hoping their mother would relent and let him in so he could read them a story before bedtime. She was a long way off forgiving him, he knew that. Last night though...last night had been a breakthrough. She had actually allowed him through the door for the first time since Saturday. And she had finally made a concession...later on today they were going to meet up for ice-cream, on neutral ground at their favourite family restaurant uptown. He knew he shouldn't be too hopeful but things were starting to look up, he could feel it.

He made his way through the ambulance bay and through the doors into triage.

It didn't hit him for a few moments that something was up.

The lounge was quiet but that was normal for mid-morning on a Sunday. Ray made his way towards the desk and registered the sight before him.

There, leaning against the counter was his attending, Luka, his head pressed down against the surface, his back towards Ray. He slowed down and slowly approached his senior doctor, not sure how to interpret this body language.

Could it possibly be that Luka was crying?

He stepped forward and touched the older man's back slightly, before speaking tentatively: "Dr. Kovac?"

The dark-haired croatian man turned to look at the person speaking to him. Ray, for the first time got a good look at his face.

"Ray?" he began, a look of bewilderment clouding his dark features. "Ray...why are you...? What are you doing here?"

Ray didn't have the first clue of how to interpret this surreal behaviour on the part of the usually surly doctor. He had a strange feeling in his stomach as he felt a hand slip around his waist softly and he turned to look into the face of his co-worker Sam Taggart.

What he found written there confused him further. Why was she looking at him so pitifully? Why were her eyes so red? He looked around and noticed that several others of his co-workers were standing still looking at him.

Inez broke the silence. "Sam..." she began in a quiet, vaguely conspiratorial voice. "I don't think he knows..." she muttered to her fellow nurse urgently.

But Sam didn't appear to have heard. Her eyes were examining his face with the strangest mixture of sadness, anger and intense puzzlement that he had ever had directed towards him. Then slowly, as if coming to a decision, some of that anger left her face. Her voice however was nonetheless urgent.

"Ray," she choked, looking at him with more seriousness than anyone had done in his life. "I don't know what happened... I..." She looked down her voice almost a whisper now. "I don't want to believe that you did this, but whether you did or you didn't", and she looked around again, her voice now a low hiss, "you probably shouldn't be here." And with that she looked at him one last time and spun around, off down the hallway.

Ray stared after her. He felt like bursting into laughter, but something told him that this was serious.

There was silence again.

He looked around half-grinning at the others to gauge a reaction. "What the hell was that?"

Ray began to feel not a little frustrated. "Would someone please tell me what has gotten into everyone?" He noticed Abby approaching him. "Abby, you'll tell me? What's happened here?" he stuttered hopefully but she too was wearing a greenish, sickly expression, an odd openness about her eyes.

She gripped him by both shoulders and looked at him, terrified. "Ray I don't know how else to do this. You...you really have no idea?" She asked softly.

"_No_, Abby, _what_?" he shot, aggressive now.

"Frank give him the newspaper," she ordered, and it was then that Ray noticed the police officers at a few hundred paces behind Abby. The heavily-set man did as she said, refusing, like Abby, to look the younger man in the eye as he placed the folded paper into his hands.

Ray looked around the crowd of faces that had gathered and felt a lump rising in his throat. Straightening his shoulders he stared at the front page. His mind raced dizzily as he registered the familiar face in the picture staring up at him. He looked up at the expectant faces again and fear gripped his whole body. They looked real enough. So why did this feel like a bad dream?

As he looked down and began to read the words printed on the page he felt a wash of red creep over the periphery of his vision, and blood rose to his face. The last thing he remembered was a chorus of panicked shouts as he gripped Abby's arm fleetingly before, mercy of all mercies, the world slipped from under him and he felt himself fall, knees crumbling to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I do not own ER, I really like it though (most of the time).**_

**Just to say, ta to reviewers, and again, may I reiterate for Neela fans she may well be popping up again: in what form, however, I know not. (Not as a zombie or anything don't worry!) Also, to whoever did write the story 'Lost' that I referred to in the last note, forgive me for attributing it to the wrong writer! I did try and find out who it really is but I just can't find it again... so sorry : ) (Update: I've just found it, the writer was xander1girl. Crisis resolved. )  
**

* * *

_24 Hours Later- Chicago Police Department_

"I demand to see your chief inspector," bit a more than usually riled Kerry Weaver, throwing her fist down on the front desk of the police station.

"Please Madam" came a voice from behind a towering pile of papers on the desk, and a spotty young man who looked as though still in his teens emerged. "If you could take a seat..."

Dr. Weaver shot him a look of pure aggression. "I am in no mood for messing around this afternoon. You are currently holding one of my doctors in your cells who should not be there and I wish to know why!"

Abby Lockhart, spoke up, a little gentler than her colleague. Out of breath from trying to keep pace with Kerry on their walk from the hospital, and eyes bloodshot from a night spent tossing and turning and crying, she knew she looked less than glamorous, but this morning she didn't care.

"Please officer...his name is Ray Barnett...if we could just see him for a moment? You must be aware of the circumstances. This isn't right...He's...You must be able to imagine the trauma he's going through..."

Abby blinked a few times and tried not to think about the events that had happened in the past 48 hours. Just twenty minutes after Ray had woken up from his fainting episode the officers had swooped down on him, convinced that this was the only possible suspect for the unspeakable crime that had been committed upon his own loved ones.

Abby kicked herself for not being able to do anything. Collapsing had been Ray's body's way of taking his mind away from the shock of what he had just faced. Abby wished despite herself that perhaps Ray had been out cold for a little longer, so that she could have figured out something, anything, that would keep him from the clutches of the men in blue. But the truth was that apart from the very real trauma his heart was going through figuratively, she had had no reason to keep him in the hospital for medical reasons. She had had to give him up to the cops.

The young officer looked from Weaver's still stern face to Abby's again. He hesitated then smiled sadly, a look of understanding.

"I appreciate the problem, I really do, and if it was up to me...well..." the brown haired rookie broke off, and looked around him as if he wasn't meant to be speaking so frankly on the issue. "The thing is, I'm afraid to say, that he's not said a word since he got here. And unless he starts to speak up, to properly testify his innocence... then we're going to have to hold him indefinitely."

Kerry opened her mouth and looked as though she was about to protest.

He cut her off. "He is currently the only suspect we have and unless some kind of substantial evidence comes in soon...well it could get to the stage where he has to be taken to trial."

Kerry looked mutinous again but this time Abby beat her to it. This was all getting a little out of hand.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this..." She shot suddenly. "What about a little thing called motive? How on earth could he be capable of..." Abbey could barely bring herself to think of the horrific act.

"Who on earth could accuse him of..." She wiped a tear and took a breath.

The young policeman looked mildly distressed and lowered his voice further. "I'm not currently at liberty to expand on the topic..." he looked around. "But I will say this... and I know its not what you want to hear but...we have reason to believe that there is in fact a motive..."

Abby was grateful that the young man was assisting them, but this was getting to be too much.

"What motive? That they were having arguments? That their marriage wasn't perfect?" bit Kerry, and Abby felt a little proud of her. "Because everyone knew that they had ups and downs...it doesn't mean that he would..." Kerry trailed off and raised her eyes to the heavens. Abby wondered for just a second whether the fiery little doctor was holding back tears.

Then, all at once the soft look was replaced by hardness again.

"OK sonny..."

Kerry put her hand on her hip and looked steely. "Tell your senior officer...Inspector Grabbinsky I believe...that the people at County are currently assembling a team of the best lawyers available...so this _motive_ had better be good otherwise we'll be organising our own investigation into the handling of this case. D'you hear?"

"Yes Ma'am." quibbled the officer, and Kerry pushed her way through the reception doors, not waiting for her colleague.

Abby remained where she was. She thought for a second.

"How is he?" She asked quietly.

The young man smiled sadly. "Not great," he surmised. In fact, the officer thought to himself, one of the worst he'd seen. The doctor had just sat in his cell crying so loudly that it could be heard in the rooms above. He was on suicide watch and they had had to restrain him several times from causing damage to himself by banging his head against the wall.

Abby understood. She shifted her coat onto her other arm and turned on her heel to leave.

"Wait..." called the young officer suddenly. A soft blush crept over his young face.

"Was she as beautiful as she looks in the pictures?" He asked timidly.

Abbey turned back around to look at him, and as she smiled for the first time in days, a hiccough came up involuntarily.

"You have no idea..." she said, and looked down as she pushed through the door.

* * *

Two floors down, Ray lay on his cot, his eyes anchored to the ceiling. He couldn't cry anymore. There was literally nothing in him. His insides, which only three hours ago had seemed a vast swell of tears, had been exhausted. Now all that was left were heaving lungs and a heart that was beating so loudly it resounded throughout his body. He tried to shut his eyes, but they were there: his wife and children. He knew this was likely to happen but it did not comfort him. He didn't want to be haunted by them, because that would mean accepting that they were gone, that this hadn't all just been a giant, horrible misunderstanding. Closing his eyes meant accepting. And so he resolutely kept them open staring at the paint chipped ceiling, hoping that he could faint again, to give him some moment's respite. 

And yet his eyelids kept drooping down, willing him to sleep, willing him to dream. He didn't want to do that. He knew that if he fell asleep he would wake up and they would still be dead, that with every passing day this truth would become more real, they would become more dead, and he would have to start thinking of them as such, he would have to accept.

He would not sleep, he would not compound them to mere memory. He would not answer the questions asked to him by the policemen who watched nervously through the shutter of his cell door. He didn't care what they thought. They wanted to force him to talk about what had happened, but how could he, how could he bring himself to imagine...? No, he would not think about it. He would simply empty his mind.

It wasn't working. He rolled over and squeezed his face into the pillow.

_Let this end God,_ he thought. _Just let this all have been a nasty dream._


	3. Chapter 3

**_Disclaimer: ER is not my property._**

**_Note: Can I take this moment to mention that I am neither a medical or legal expert, and thus will be taking so many liberties that anyone who does belong to one of those professions may well find themselves frothing at the mouth with horror at some of the poorly researched content of these next chapters. You have been warned. Hohoho : )_**

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* * *

"I'd like to call as a witness to the defense a Doctor Abigail Lockhart. Doctor Lockhart, would you swear in for us now."

The brown haired woman, looking about her, made her way to the front of the courtroom, stopping briefly as she went by the docks to smile tightly and sorrowfully at the man sat in the compound. It was the first time she had seen him in weeks: his hair, once short and spikey now hung longer around his ears, somewhat like it had the first time they had met those years ago in the ER. Except, she now reasoned with a lump in her throat, these days his fashion choices were likely to have little to do with style. He didn't exactly smile back at her, but he nodded. Her heart skipped a little. She had always felt somehow like an elder sister to him. Despite all that had happened he was still only young: hadn't he only last month celebrated his 34th birthday? The mother in her worried hopelessly for him: were they feeding them well enough in prison? His expression looked grey: when had he last had some fresh air; a bit of sunlight?

She held the book in her hands and swore to God. She had never believed in God, but she closed her eyes tightly for a second and hoped, rather than prayed that whatever she said today would serve to the forces of good.

"Ms. Lockhart you knew the couple since before they were involved, I believe"

"That's right. We were interns together."

"And you would describe your relationship with Dr. Rasgotra as having been close?"

"Yes your honor. Very close. Like family. All of us were." She glanced at Ray and smiled weakly but defiantly. "Are." She corrected. "Your honour I have to say this now, this isn't right, you've got the wrong guy...Ray would never, he'd never-"

"Ms. Lockhart kindly answer the questions asked of you rather than making your own conjectures."

"You're on record as saying that Dr. Rasgotra often confided in you. How did you feel when she admitted to you that her and the defendant had started a relationship? Did you feel that they were a good match, right from the beginning?"

Abby felt her heart beat horribly fast as guilt twisted at the corner of her mouth: she prayed to God that her reaction to this question was not visible on her face. Should she tell the truth? That, at the beginning, she had voiced her concerns to her friend as to the wisdom of getting together with a man who was her opposite, by all connotations of the word a 'badboy'? That she had warned her that trouble might lie ahead. Abby had promised herself that she would not be perjured: there was nothing to hide and so she would tell the truth. There was nothing really sinister about any of the things she was currently recalling: after all it had been simply one girlfriend looking out for the other, and in all honesty it had been before she had even known Ray well enough to have known how wrong she had been to doubt him. But what if the truth reflected badly on Ray's character, made things worse for him?

* * *

_Seven years earlier._

_Abby stood in the drug lock-up leaning with her arms folded, avoiding Ray's gaze. "I don't know what to say Ray. I don't think Neela would understand and I wouldn't blame her."_

_Ray rolled his eyes. "You know Neela's not the stick-in-the-mud you think she is." Abby raised her eyebrows. "OK, maybe she is. But I still don't see the big deal. I was going to get rid of them anyway."_

_Abbey smiled sarcastically. "Oh well in that case I guess you wouldn't mind if I tell her."_

_Ray looked worried. "You wouldn't?"_

_Abby glared at him. "Ray you are growing and selling your own 'herbs' from the apartment! Her apartment! Under her nose! And you know very well that she disapproves of this kind of thing! Do you not remember last week we had that guy come in with the arthritis who lit up that joint in the waiting room? Neela was ranting for weeks about how they should lock him up and throw away the keys!" Abby tried to look stern, but a hint of a smirk slipped out at the memory of the funny little British doctor and her horrified reaction to the octogenarian's antics._

_Ray grinned, taking in Abby's slight smile. "I knew you'd see the funny side. And like I said I'm just looking after them for Brett while he's away at his Star Trek convention in Germany...sorry business trip." Ray grinned again wickedly. "Anyway, between you and me production's not what it used to be on the old thing." He scratched his head. "I don't know what went wrong really; have you ever seen 'Little Shop of Horrors'? I never was much for horticulture but I swear the things started growing these weird little purplish buds. I think she... it, sorry... may have reached its autumn years, poor thing. Don't tell Brett that though, he loves that damn pot-plant."_

_He stood up straight."Right. Well I'm done here for the evening, and I think I can safely trust you to say no more on the issue," he winked, and Abby fought the urge to slap him. _

_Then all of a sudden his face lit up as Neela herself bustled into the lock-up. "Aah mi bella donna," said Ray in a slightly too loud sing song voice. Neela was flushed and happy-looking as she pulled off her tightly tied surgeon's headcloth, her shiney, dark curls tumbling out._

_She took in Abby's glowering expression, and shot her an interested look, struggling lightly as Ray hugged her fiercely from behind, lifting her momentarily off the ground. "Cheer up Abbers...you look a bit pissed. Is everything all right?"_

_Ray looked at Abby tauntingly, his chin resting on Neela's shoulder. "Yeah 'Abbers'. Cheer the fuck up."_

_"Shut it you." Joked Neela, play-slapping him lightly on the jowels. Abby scowled at Ray, as she watched the pair make to leave. She was worried: and not just about his dubious side-line business activities- all that was fairly harmless and it didn't really sound like that whole thing was going to last very much longer anyway. Ray and Neela were incredible together and so in love. But the thought couldn't help but nag her that, if Ray wasn't being honest about this to Neela, then what else was he capable of? It was obvious to everyone that he couldn't live without her. But was he adult enough to give up his old way of life? The one-night stands, the parties, the booze, the crazy stunts? _

_Neela let go of Ray's hand as they went through the door and let him go ahead slightly as she looked back at Abby worriedly._

_"You sure everything's OK?" she asked quietly._

_Abby looked long and hard at her friend and sighed. She was about to open her mouth to speak her mind, when Ray came back in, nudging his forehead against Neela's side on._

_"Neela!" he whined in her ear like an impatient child. "World Poker Celebrity Special! We'll miss the beginning!"_

_Neela laughed and cupped his mouth, kissing him._

_Abby chuckled. "Everything's fine here, Neela. Enjoy your evening kids."_

_Ray hustled Neela out of the lock-up and smiled gratefully at Abby. Abby shook her head. The situation was a little bit funny. She smiled, reassured at the sight of the blissfully happy couple, pushing aside her doubts._

* * *

Abby shook herself out of her reverie as she felt herself back in the here and now, sadness rising in her gut at the thought of happy times. She looked again at Ray in the defendant's dock of the courtroom. Memories came flooding back and she felt a tear in her eye as she said without a trace of dishonesty:

"Yes your honour. They were a perfect match. A little unconventional. A little...tempestuous. But they were just...I don't know what to say. Anybody who saw them together would tell you...they were just... happy. Happy to be together."

The courtroom was silent. Abby noticed Ray sat up a little in his chair, and she hoped that her words had warmed, if even the slightest bit, the cold he must have been feeling in his heart right then.


End file.
